| Devoid of life, lost and glum
|
| Silence devours flair, swears allegiance to its maids
|
| On the prowl of loneliness
|
| To geminate with harsh, fake resistance to my art
|
| Accept my soul
|
| Offer my toil to the poet’s tears
|
| Caress my heart
|
| It’s my black art to whisper in your ears
|
| Back to the days we embellished the rhymes
|
| Off to the gallery of my pains
|
| Embody the spirit, this art of mine
|
| Every verse speaks for a thousand strains
|
| Ornaments of agony
|
| Cut the wrists of our bond to reality
|
| Embrace in sighs and despair
|
| To connect the flames to the oceans of my soul
|
| Accept my soul
|
| Offer my toil to the poet’s tears
|
| Caress my heart
|
| It’s my black art to whisper in your ears
|
| Back to the days we embellished the rhymes
|
| Off to the gallery of my pains
|
| Embody the spirit, this art of mine
|
| Every verse speaks for a thousand strains
|
| All screams and groans inside, not a single sigh
|
| A chest like a storm profound (roaring melancholy)
|
| Bring me out in shackles to the mercy of the might
|
| Hit me with your contempt, I’ll rejoice and shine so bright
|
| Let me introduce my gloom to the deepest of your fears
|
| I want to cross your borders straight inside your winter, dear!
|
| Tour winter, dear
|
| Accept my soul
|
| Offer my toil to the poet’s tears
|
| Caress my heart
|
| It’s my black art to whisper in your ears
|
| Back to the days we embellished the rhymes
|
| Off to the gallery of my pains
|
| Embody the spirit, this art of mine
|
| Every verse speaks for a thousand strains
|
| Back to the days we embellished the rhymes
|
| Off to the gallery of my pains
|
| Embody the spirit, this art of mine
|
| Every verse speaks for a thousand strains
|
| All screams and groans inside, not a single sigh
|
| A chest like a storm profound |